


Across the Night

by WorryinglyInnocent



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: A Monthly Rumbelling, Exhibitionism, F/M, Masturbation, NSFW, PWP, Smut, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-06 01:18:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17930027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorryinglyInnocent/pseuds/WorryinglyInnocent
Summary: Belle’s never spoken to the man who lives in the building opposite her, but they know each other by sight. After all, they can see each other through the windows. One night, their relationship takes a more intimate turn.Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling prompt: “moonlight, show me, so good, staring, wanting”





	Across the Night

Belle didn’t think that she would like living in a big city when she first moved here from the small backwater town that she grew up in. She has always wanted to travel and to see the world more than anything, but she’s always been used to a friendly sense of community, where everyone knows everyone else and is always willing to lend a hand to a neighbour in need. 

Belle doesn’t think she’s ever met her neighbours in the six months that she’s lived in this apartment block, but she finds she doesn’t mind. Although she’s never met people, she knows all about them. Her building is one of a pair of tower blocks, large and modern and all metal and glass. She’s never met the people in the block opposite in person, but she has the perfect vantage point into their lives.

There’s a couple with a little boy who runs around the kitchen with childish enthusiasm and boundless energy, making his huge stuffed monkey fly around the room. There’s another couple next to them, one who whom can’t cook for toffee and the other who gets so exasperated over her girlfriend’s ability to create culinary disasters that she’s banned her from the kitchen. There’s the lady with black and white hair and two massive Dobermans that act like the dopiest puppies whilst she’s around and guard the house like soldiers when she’s not. 

And then there’s the man who lives directly opposite Belle, next door to the lady with the Dobermans. He’s the only one who’s ever caught her staring into the lives of the people opposite. He looked right at her as she was looking out of the window, and Belle was so embarrassed about being caught that she had gone bright red and hidden in the curtains for ten minutes. When she had finally emerged, he was still there at the window, grinning like Mephistopheles, and he waved to her. Belle waved back. It was a moment between them, when she had known that all was forgiven and that he didn’t mind her prying. 

Over time, their friendship has continued. She doesn’t know his name, or anything about him, other than what she can see. He’s attractive, mature, his hair beginning to show the odd streak of grey where it curls at his collar. He’s small, but there’s a wiry strength to him and a power in his stance despite the limp and cane he walks with. He carried an air of mystery and danger about with him, and Belle finds that she really wants to know more about him, although that might remove the air of mystery. For all a part of her wonders what he’s like in real life, so to speak, a part of her wants to keep that sense of the unknown, worried that he won’t live up to the image of him that she’s painted in her mind through the glimpses she’s seen of his life. 

He seems happy enough to know that Belle watches him. In fact, he always smiles when their eyes meet across the space between them, so Belle hazards a guess that he even likes it. If she likes to watch, and he likes to be watched, then there’s no wonder that they get along so well in their lives, both brought together and separated by the glass. 

Night time is always the best time for watching. The lights in the apartments opposite make the contrast even starker against the darkness outside, and people lose their inhibitions in the dark when they think that no-one can see. Most of the time, people draw their curtains as soon as they need to put the lights of, for most of them know that a room becomes far more visible when the lights are on, even if they live on the fourth floor, and only the man opposite seems to be aware of the little voyeur who sits on her kitchen windowsill with the lights off, all the better to see him with. 

Tonight, there’s something different. Bright, silvery moonlight is making everything strange and eerie, and across the night in the apartment opposite, there are no lights on except the glare from the television screen. The man is slumped in his chair, his usually pristine appearance dishevelled and worn down, perhaps from a bad day at work. His tie is loose around his neck, the top few buttons of his shirt undone, and his jacket and waistcoat are discarded somewhere else in the shadows. There’s a glass of some dark spirit - whisky, Belle guesses - by his elbow, and occasionally he takes a sip as he continues to watch whatever’s on the screen. Belle can only see the vagueness of movement as the distribution of the light changes. 

It takes her a moment to realise he’s cupping his crotch through his trousers, grinding the palm of his hand down against his cock. Is he watching porn? Belle licks her lips, excited at the thought. She’s often had little daydreams about seeing something naughty when she looks across at him, often wondered what he looks like under those impeccably tailored suits of his. Maybe now she’ll get to see. 

The hand slides down under his waistband, and Belle inches closer to the window, willing him to let her see more.

“Show me,” she breathes. “Show me everything. You know I’m watching.”

He doesn’t look over at her; his attention is fully focussed on the screen, but he must know that she’s over here staring at him. There’s rarely a time when she isn’t. He’s caught her looking often enough and given his implicit blessing for her to continue. He must know that she can see this intimate moment. 

Which must mean that he wants her to see it. 

Belle presses her fingertips up against the glass as his hand continues to move inside his trousers, and she’s begging him to stop teasing and let her see more. Almost as if he can hear her thoughts, he pulls his hand out and slowly, slowly unfastens his belt and fly, pushing his trousers down a little so that he can free his cock and take himself in hand, slow strokes up and down his member. There’s something so smooth and confident in the way he touches himself. He knows what he likes and knows how to get there, and if he’s putting on a show for the little voyeur opposite, then he doesn’t care. He’s certainly got nothing to be ashamed of when it comes to his cock, and unbidden, the daydream comes into Belle’s head, wondering what it would be like to feel that thick, hard cock pounding into her. She doesn’t even know his name or anything about him, but she can feel his hair between her fingers, feel his lips pressed against hers, and feel his length stretching her inside. 

Belle gives a little gasp as she watches, feeling the heat pooling between her own thighs, and she reaches up under her skirt, pressing a fingertip against her entrance and rubbing until she feels the spot of wetness beginning to soak through her underwear. Across the way, her neighbour’s strokes and tugs get faster, his thumb rubbing over the flushed tip of his cock and his hips fidgeting as he nears his climax. Belle scrabbles her panties down to her knees and touches her swollen clit, coaxing out the pearl and circling it as she presses a finger up inside, wanting nothing more than to see him come undone and take her with him without him even laying a finger on her. 

She adds another finger, pumping them in and out in time with his hand moving on his cock, and when he finally stills and spurts thick over his hand and stomach, ruining his charcoal grey shirt, Belle follows him over, crying out as her orgasm pulses warm through her veins. She closes her eyes, panting as she comes back down to earth. There’s something about the act of watching someone else fall apart that makes her own orgasm so much more intense. 

When she finally opens her eyes again, the man from across the way is looking right at her. He knew she was watching him and taking her own pleasure from his, but Belle feels absolutely no shame, not when it felt so  _ good _ . 

The distance across the night between them feels too far now, and the glass is more of a barrier than a safety net. Belle presses one sticky hand against the window, uncaring for the smudges she leaves there. The man smiles, a little smirk that quirks up one corner of his mouth, and he tucks himself back into his trousers. The show’s over, but there’s still the evidence of what just happened on his shirt. He gets up, flicking the TV off as he does so, and he comes over to the window. Belle thinks that he’s going to draw the curtains, to end her evening’s entertainment, but instead, he draws on the window with one fingertip, slow, large, deliberate tracings. 

It’s his phone number. 

Belle almost falls off the windowsill in her quest for her phone and she only gets the last five digits. How can she tell him she needs him to repeat it? She waves the phone at him, mouthing  _ show me again? _

He traces the numbers again, and Belle gets it this time. She stares at the number for a long time, and when she looks up again, the curtains opposite are drawn. The ball is in her court. It’s up to her what she does with this now. It’s the age old dilemma between wanting to know more, and being worried that reality will not live up to her overactive imagination. 

She decides to be brave, and types out a message. 

_ Hello.  _

The response is almost immediate.

_ Hello. _

_ Thank you for the show.  _

_ My pleasure. Literally. I’m glad you enjoyed it.  _  There’s a pause before the next message arrives.  _ May I know your name? _

_ Belle. Belle French. You? _

_ Alistair Gold.  _

_ It’s nice to meet you Alistair.  _

Belle smiles as she draws her own curtains, blocking out the moonlight. This could be the start of something very special indeed. 


End file.
